A Millimeter, a Million Miles
by teaandcharcoalforbreakfast
Summary: You can put them about as far apart as you can get on this planet, but you can't stop them from talking, and you can't stop them from getting off. America, England, and taking advantage of video chats. Smut ahoy!


America tore up the stairs of his building. He didn't have time to waste on silly things like elevators. After all, it was already five thirty. Every second counted. He managed to make it to the third floor in record time, and he fumbled with his keys while trying to catch his breath. Eventually, he managed to get the door open, and he raced inside to turn on his laptop. He stood there bent over his chair the entire time, not bothering to sit down or even shut the door. No, that was for people who weren't in such a goddamn hurry. However, the computer seemed to be taking forever to start up. Shit, maybe he shouldn't look up so much porn.

Oh, but there it was! Thank God. America started up his web browser. It didn't go fast enough, so he hit it again. And again. And again. That, of course, meant that he wound up with four windows all trying to open at the same time. He cursed and closed three of them, hastily pulling up the chat that he used with England.

He let out a sigh of relief when he saw that the other nation was still on. Not that it would have mattered if he wasn't. After all, America could _totally _handle a day without talking to him. It was no big deal. He was a big boy and he could take care of himself.

However, that didn't mean that a smile didn't cross his lips as he pulled out his chair and sat down, smoothing his hair to make himself seem as though he hadn't been frantic a few moments ago. He started a video chat with England and saw the Brit's face fill the screen.

England didn't look good on webcam. His face was always washed out by the whitish light and the intensity and complex colors in his eyes were lost somewhere on the way. However, he still had that same lovely smile, the same messy hair. He seemed to be in pajamas already, silk from the way that the light was reflecting off of the green fabric.

"Hey, babe," America said, stroking the side of the screen, "How've you been?"

"Well, as you know, every day is fraught with danger, so it's only natural that my world would have fallen apart without any news coverage since we last spoke twenty-four hours ago, so-"

America scowled and set his hands back on the keyboard, even if he wouldn't actually be using it, "I'm trying to be nice, asshole."

"Yes, well, I'm trying to amuse you."

"Still an ass," America said, stretching.

"Well, since we've established that fact, you may want to close your front door."

America blinked, "What?"

England pointed at the screen, "I can see clear through into the hallway from here."

America swore and ran off to shut both the front door and also his bedroom door, grumbling obscenities the entire time. England was grinning, some of the mischievous glint in his eyes appearing on the screen.

"Don't you have anything better to do than to laugh at me?" America asked, taking off his jacket and folding it over the back of the chair.

"Oh, love, there's nothing better to do in the entire world than to laugh at you."

America sighed and let his head fall against his desk, "Ow," he said dully.

England started to laugh out loud.

America just glared at him.

"Come now, don't be that way." He brushed his knuckles against the screen, "You know that it's only because I love you."

"Please, you've been doing that since at least the 1880's." He rolled his eyes, but reveled in the confession for a moment.

"Who ever said I haven't loved you since then?"

America felt himself blush at England's soft smile, his half-closed eyes. If they were there together, they'd kiss. They'd kiss and they'd brush each other with knees and fingertips and lips for days and days until one of them couldn't take it anymore. But they weren't. There was a whole ocean in between them and not for the first time since they'd started their tradition of video-chatting America wondered what to do instead. In the mean time, the silence was getting longer and longer, almost to the point where England would be able to reach out and touch it on _his _continent. Maybe America could make some sort of rope out of it and pull England over.

"I suppose I had a normal day," England said, softly, "Everything's been quiet around here. Just some more bills to try to help the economy and such. I got to spend most of the day wandering about London, mingling with my people. France tried to stop by for lunch and I sent him back across the channel with a bloody nose, but other than that things have been peaceful." He rested his cheek on his hand, "Life is being rather good to me, all things considered. You?"

"Well, you know how it is. Elections are just over a year away, so everybody's in campaign mode and everything's a circus over here. But really, Congress is in a standstill, so there isn't much I can do."

"Opposite of progress?"

America smiled, "Yeah, sometimes. I'm just glad that I've got a normal apartment now. I still don't like all the fancy mansion-y shit. Living in the White House was killing me."

England smiled, "I know what you mean."

"How? You're the prince of stuffiness."

England sniffed, "Just because I have an ounce of class doesn't make me the 'prince of stuffiness.' I'll have you know that I used to be quite the ruffian."

"I know. It shows as soon as you get a couple of drinks in you. Or France shows up. Or a meeting is starting to go crazy. Or anyone says two words to you. Or-"

"Shut up, you barmy-"

"And, B-T-W, you have the _cutest _little insults."

"Fucking twat!"

"Yeah, just like that," America smiled. It always felt good to be doing the insulting.

England sighed, "You're utterly hopeless."

"Wah," America said, "My mean old boyfriend doesn't understand me. Wah, wah, wah."

"Of course I don't," England said, apparently missing the way that America was pretending to be him, "After all, you pretend that a simple string of letters is a word."

"England, that's _exactly _what a word is. That's like the textbook definition, bro."

"You know what I mean!"

"I do." They just looked at each other for a moment, America smiling and England scowling.

"I love it when you make that face," America said, "Your eyebrows look so cute all scrunched together like that."

"I'm not cute!"

"Yeah, you are."

"Stuff it!"

"You're so cute that I wanna hold you in my arms and never, ever, ever, _ever, _let you go."

"I'd like that," England said to America's surprise.

"You would?"

"Well," England looked away and scratched the back of his head, "Maybe not forever. But I- I-" He sighed, "I really do miss you, America. I want you to be here with me."

America considered for a moment pointing out that they'd promised that their talks wouldn't dissolve into harping on how far apart they were, but _goddammit, _he wanted to, "I want that too." He said softly.

"What would you do if you were here?"

The younger man smiled, "Exactly that. I'd hold you. Hold you and cuddle you until I had to make you breakfast in bed tomorrow."

"That's it?" England asked, raising an eyebrow, "Just snuggle?"

"Why?" America asked, "What else? There aren't new episodes of Dr. Who coming out right now, are there?"

"No, but," He leaned back in his chair, "Come on now, America. Think outside the box. Lord knows that that's what you do best."

America smiled, "Are you trying to cyber with me?"

"Don't be silly," England said, smirking, "Cybering is text-based and we have two perfectly good webcams."

"I'll take that as a yes," America said, loosening his tie, "Okay, so you started this. Why don't you take the lead?"

"I'd love to," England said, "The first thing I'd do is I'd kiss you mad. You know how I do it, when I tease your lips with my teeth and rub all those sensitive spots on your sides and belly," America bit his lip and allowed one hand to sink lower to act out what England described, "Oh, you turn into jelly when I do that. I'd guide you to the bed and let you sink down into the mattress."

"You oughta know, though," America said, grinning, "That I wouldn't just lay back and take it. I'd work my hand between us and hold you. You'd be hard already, probably."

England blushed, although America could see that one hand was in his lap, "Please, boy, I have more control than that."

"Sure," America said, grinning, "that's a pretty shade of pink, by the way, that's telling me you're lying."

"I'm not!"

"Well, you can deny it all you want now," America said, grinning, "But if we were together you couldn't. The best you could do is grind forward and push my hand back against my groin," He rubbed himself with the back of his hand, cupping the air, "Because you know I'm not much better."

"You're never _any_ better," England grumbled, "But I'm still on top, aren't I? So I'd take both of your wrists and hold them above your head with one hand."

"Please, you couldn't hold me there. Your can barely fit both my wrists in one hand."

"Then you're willingly submitting. I love it when you want me to have you. So I'd just smile and kiss down your jaw."

America shuddered, "Oh yeah, I love that."

England smiled, "I know you do," He stroked the edge of the monitor, "Then I'd start unbuttoning your shirt," America threw his tie away and grabbed the first button, "No. Slower, more loving." He slowly slid his second button out, "That's better. And as soon as I got every one open, I'd leave a kiss on the new skin."

America grinned.

"Why are you looking at me like that?"

"Can't a guy be happy that he gets to hear those sorts of things in that sexy accent?" America said, teasingly.

"I suppose so, but I don't quite believe that's it."

America shrugged, "Believe what you want to," he continued to unbutton his shirt, loving the way that England was staring hungrily at him. "Oh, but what's this?" The next button revealed not skin, but a white undershirt.

"Bastard," England said, "Why do you do this to me?"

America shrugged and ran a hand through his hair, "I usually wear 'em unless I think someone else is gonna take my clothes off for me."

"I don't know whether to be disgusted or aroused that you think of us having sex while you get dressed in the morning."

"It ain't about sex. I'm just always thinking about you."

England started floundering and America took the opening, "While you're distracted, I'd flip us. I'd rub your chest and give you a quick little kiss before I straddle your thighs. Then I'd do this for ya." He unbuttoned his shirt, turning his head to the side and giving England a seductive smile. Instead of looking at the screen, he stared right at the webcam. Once he was done, he stood and shucked it, making sure that England got an eyeful of his toned stomach and probably a little of the tent he was pitching. He peeled his undershirt away, finally letting England see his chest and belly.

"You look a little… restrained there, love." England said, voice starting to get husky, "How about I reach down to your belt and let you out?"

"No," America said, sitting down, "Not yet."

"No?" England asked, raising an eyebrow.

"I ain't just the evening show. Why don't you show a little skin too?"

"Oh, I see. Would you like to strip me?"

"It's your turn," America said, "You tell me what happens?"

"Well," England said, "I think that I'd be a bit transfixed, just staring at that skin of yours. You would scowl because in your mind I'm not giving you what you want."

"_Eng-land." _

"Oh, that pout's lovely too. Maybe you should do that instead."

America huffed, "Dammit, England, just take off your shirt!"

"Patience, love," England replied, rolling his shoulders, "But that's just like you, isn't it? I bet that if you were here you'd just tear viciously at my shirt, wouldn't you?" He ripped open his buttons, not even going in order, "You wouldn't care anything about technique. All you want is to get this shirt off, eh?" America just watched in amazement as England pulled viciously at his own clothes and thought to himself that it was probably one of the sexiest things that he'd ever seen in his life.

"Pants," America breathed, "Take off my pants, England. It's too much."

"Gladly," England said, with a predatory grin, "As you're struggling with my shirt, I'd reach down and tug at your belt-"

America stood and picked up the laptop.

"Where are you taking me?" England asked.

"Bed," America said, "I know you're in your study right now, but there's that daybed in there, right?"

"I'm sort of surprised that you remember that," England said. There was a sort of scuffling sound, which probably meant that England had lifted his own computer.

"With how often we've made love on it? Never." He was on the bed at that point, kneeling but with the screen tipped up enough that he and England could see each other. His lover was laying down at that point with the laptop carefully positioned so that America had to look down the entire length of his body to see his face. The younger nation reached for his belt and undid it before pulling down his zipper and tugging his pants and boxers down far enough to free himself.

"Lovely," England said breathlessly as he finally removed his shirt, "You're so lovely America."

"You're pretty easy on the eyes yourself," America said, running his fingers along the image of England's body.

"Glad you think so," England said, "Now I want those trousers all the way off."

"Right, right," America said, standing just for long enough to lose his last remaining clothes. He sat right back down, "Your turn,"

Of course, love," England said.

He lifted his hips and with a delicious moan, tugged his pajama pants down. His member sprang free, tall and strong. America was salivating more than a little. His oral fixation was acting up, pushing him to take it and shove it down his throat. But, unfortunately, he couldn't reach through the screen to do that. But he could fake it.

"Come on, England," America said, "I wanna suck your cock."

"Well, you're astride my hips, so I'd have trouble stopping you even if I wanted to."

"Oh yeah," America said, "That's right. I forgot about that. But anyway…"

He reached under his bed and grabbed the box that held all of his sex toys. Right on the top was a large blue vibrator, the one that he usually used while England was away. He let his lover get a good look at it before he gripped the base and began to lick at the tip. England let out a little gasp. America smiled into the plastic, and then slid almost the entire thing into his mouth. He groaned against the toy. It didn't feel as good as England's warm and pulsing cock, but it was still _a _cock, hard and filling his mouth and throat. He began to blow it as though it was real, sucking and swallowing and running his tongue along the bottom. England was groaning and stroking himself on the other side.

Enjoying the noises the other man was making, America let his eyes slide closed and began to pleasure himself.

England was with him. That groaning was coming out of his larynx, not a pair of speakers. The hand around him wasn't his own, but England's. It felt good to pretend, so good.

"Stop," England said, "I'm pulling my cock away."

America opened his eyes and obediently removed the toy, "What gives?"

"I wanna fuck you," he said, eyebrows slightly furrowed and a bit of a frown on his lips.

America felt embarrassed. Usually England wasn't so explicit with his wants. Usually he'd use a lot of metaphors and euphemisms. But what could he say other than, "…okay."

"Thank you so much," England said, smile returning.

America smiled weakly back. He grabbed for the lube he always kept next to his bed and laid down, spreading his legs.

"That's a lovely view."

"Ain't half bad from here either, sunshine," America said, trying to regain some of his bravado.

England laughed, but refused to look away as America covered his fingers in lube and slid one inside. He closed his eyes and turned away. Even watered down, the intensity of England's stare was still too much. Thankfully, the other man granted him his peace, which let him focus more on preparing himself properly, making sure that he was stretched wide enough. England was definitely still staring, because he let out a loud grunt when America finally got his third finger in to the base and an even louder one when he pulled them all out.

He was about to nudge the vibrator in when England said, "No. Look at me."

America was so taken by surprise that he did.

"I want to have eye contact," England said, "Otherwise this is just masturbation. I wanted to do this with you, America."

America swallowed and nodded, but once he actually took his lover in he couldn't look away. His pale skin was flushed and visibly slick with sweat. He was panting and his eyes were half glazed. It was okay now, a lot more gentle and a lot less demanding. America sat up and stroked the screen.

"You mean everything to me," he said softly.

England smiled reassuringly and touched his own computer, "And you me,"

America smiled in return and eased himself back so that he could spread his legs properly again. He inhaled deeply, and with a nod from his lover pressed the toy inside. He took it all the way to the base before switching it on. He moaned and almost closed his eyes, but then remembered England wanted him to look. England was making soft noises of approval and was pumping his cock like the world was going to explode in a minute. The younger nation couldn't help but laugh.

"What?"

"You're so into it!"

"So?"

"Nothing, it's just funny."

"Well, if I amuse you so," England let go of his cock and propped himself up on his elbows, "Why don't you entertain me a bit more too?"

"What? Seeing a dick up my ass isn't good enough?"

"It's lovely, but I'd like to see you move it."

"You mean like this?" America grabbed the base of the toy and slid it in and out, moaning.

"Yes," England hissed, hands flying back to his cock, "Just like that."

America shuddered, "I won't last long doing this," he said.

"I won't last long with you doing it either," England said, somehow going even _faster. _

Normally when they were together, they would push and pull each other to the edge with kisses and touches. England would stroke America's sides and run his fingers through his hair while America would grab his ass and tease his inner thighs. There was no contact now; they weren't even close enough to touch the screens. But they never took their eyes off of each other, never stopped moaning and babbling words of encouragement. Still, America couldn't let it end like that. As he felt his orgasm approaching, he threw himself forward and pulled the computer to be next to him on the pillow.

"England," he said, "England I need you up here!"

The other man looked at his screen and, realizing that he couldn't do the same, flipped around so that his face was closer to the computer.

"Like this?"

"Yes," America said, "I need your face."

"I-Interesting word choice," England said as he started again.

"I got- I got a fuckin' vibrator up my ass. Sorry if I'm not… if I'm not… Oh, you get it."

He let his head flop down, hoping that England could still see his face. He could still see England's: hair at all angles, eyes utterly misty, lips just slightly open. Dear God, America needed him. He needed him so badly. He never wanted to leave, never wanted them to be apart. But even this was good enough, as long as he could see his face, as long as he could hear his voice. America watched England come with reverence, seeing him tense up and cry out as the actual orgasm hit before his face relaxed into a look of complete bliss. His own orgasm found him at that look.

He reached down and turned off the vibrator before easing it out.

"I love you," America whispered, "I love you so much."

"I love you too," England said, sleepily, "I've got to go to bed, there's a meeting in the morning."

"Do you have to?" America asked.

"I'm sorry, America, but I can do this for you."

He leaned forward so that his face was out of sight. It took America a few moments to realize what he was doing, but then his heart skipped a beat. He leaned forward and kissed the screen too. It wasn't like England's lips, but it was warm, it was just a little soft. Even though it pushed against his nose awkwardly, it still felt good. England was right there, right on the other side of the monitor. America wished that he could reach through and grab him, actually touch him. But then he was half a world away too, and it hurt. It hurt so bad.

"Goodnight, England," he whispered, pulling away, "Sleep well."

"Goodnight to you too," England replied, looking back at him, "I'll call you again tomorrow."

America forced himself to smile and nodded, "Yeah, tomorrow."

"Goodbye, I love you."

"Same here." England's smile was the last thing he saw before the window disappeared and he was left staring at his boring old web browser.

America didn't even bother to close the program before shutting the computer. He looked at the plain, black, dead device and got out of bed. He really ought to have gone straight to the bathroom to clean himself up. Instead, he went to his calendar and put a big X through the date and looked on to the next one.

"Fifty four days," he said to himself, "It's only fifty four days until the G8 meeting."

That was still fifty-four too many.


End file.
